


A bit of a dilemma

by PraiseGodtiss



Series: A bit of a dilemma. [1]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom, bbc - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, doppelgangers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PraiseGodtiss/pseuds/PraiseGodtiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something happens to John at the lab while working overtime. He gets kidnapped and Sherlock has to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A bit of a dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo, this is a WIP and I just hope you enjoy.

I am in a bit of a dilemma.  
A few days ago, something happened at the lab while John was working overtime. He wasn't really the same. He smelled different, walked different, everything about him was a little....off.  
Then one day something happened that even I couldn't expect.  
John had started screaming  
and screaming  
and SCREAMING.  
He had dropped to the floor, writhing as if having a seizure.  
I was postive he wasn't an epileptic, and besides there wasn't anything here to spark it if he was.  
I had dropped to his side, unsure of what to do.  
"John...John CAN YOU HEAR ME? JOHN?"  
I had yelled, slapping the good doctor's face.  
Then something began to happen  
John Hamish Watson began to split in two.  
_____________________  
It was a fascinating thing, what happened to my Doctor Watson.  
Grotesque and fascinating.  
His skin began to...bubble is the word, I suppose.  
His skin bubbling, everything he was began to split. Much like a cell mitosis, I suppose, or a wax figure melting, but into another of the exact same size and shape.  
I quickly stood up and took a picture with my mobile to document this happening and analyze it later.  
I looked down, and saw one of the men sit up and shake its head groggily.  
"John?" I asked cautiously.  
It had looked up, and jumped. Then the world had went black.  
When I came to, about an hour, hour and a half later by the suns angle, John was gone, taken by the clone in most probability as he wasn't answering my yells which also showed that Mrs. Hudson was out, and my phone was missing.  
Sitting up, I fought against the sudden bout of nausea and the pounding in my head and jaw that assailed me and put my hands over my ears, head between knees. A few minutes later as the pounding died down some, I slowly went over my body for injuries. The clone, as it is obvious now that it wasn't John, had jumped up and headbutted my chin, causing my head to snap back, effectively knocking me out. It also may have kicked me in the ribs a few times as was apparent from the rather severe bruising and that it pained me to breath. Nothing was broken though. Thank god for the small mercies.  
I went into the kitchen to see a complete disaster. Thousands of pounds worth of scientific equipment were broken, the pieces laying broken on the floor, the refrigerator door hanging open, cabinets ajar, the contents laying scattered throughout the kitchen.  
I slowly went over to the refrigerator and closed the door. I would find that...THING that did this.  
That took John.  
My John.  
_____________________  
An hour later, and I've wrapped gauze around my chest and bandaged some minor cuts I found on my body. I grab John's gun from its compartment under the desk, reload it, and stick it in my holster.  
Time to go and get him.  
Time to go and get my Doctor.  
_____________________  
I walked outside my flat, and looked around. All these people not knowing what was going on right under their noses. Oblivious to the danger they were in.  
Sad, really.  
I grinned as I pulled up my coat collar against the howling wind and tightened my scarf, turned up the street, molding in with the masses and making my way down to an artillery shop.  
The owner owed me a favor.  
_____________________  
The door bell chimed as I pushed it open to see a large Italian man standing behind the counter.  
His Apron was covered in grime, his hair a scruffy mess. His beard was overgrown and uncared for.  
"Sherlock! Good to see you, my friend! How have you been?"  
"Rafaello! The kids doing fine then?"  
"Of course, of course! Come, what you need? Just got a fresh stock in, they in the back! You want to see?"  
"But of course, let's go to the warehouse."  
Making our way through the artillery loaded counters, I went toward the back, having been here many a time before, with Rafaello close behind. As soon as we got in, he closed the door with a drawn out creak.  
"Now, Sherlock, I am sure that you can identify most of these, are you looking for anything in particular then?"  
"Oh yes. I want to send a message, in fact, because I know that considering you're not Rafeallo, you should be able to get it to the people that took my flatmate."  
A look of dull surprise went over his face, but was quickly banished.  
"I'm not sure what you mean, my friend..."  
"Oh, I think you know very well what I mean. Rafaello Libritorum always oiled his hinges, he kept his apron spotless and was a clean shave. When he did have a beard it was well kept and neat. Very impressive hygiene."  
"Well, I was having a bad day..."  
"No children either."  
"Well, no use in keeping up appearences anymore then, yeah?" The thing asked bemusedly.  
"Just take a message to whoever is in charge for me. Tell them this, word for word, 'I am coming to retrieve my Doctor. If anything is wrong with him, if his HAIR is out of place, take note; I will hunt you down. I will find you. I will kill you.'  
"Also...thanks for the handguns and ammo, 'Rafaello'. Afternoon."  
The front door's bell jingled as I left the story with a worried looking Rafaello in the warehouse doorway.  
____________________  
The door swung shut behind me, ringing forlornly as I went down the street, hailing a taxi. As one pulled up I opened the door and jumped in.  
"Scotland Yard, please."  
The cabbie nodded as I sat back and closed my eyes.  
On the off chance that Lestrade could help, I was going to see if he knew anything.  
____________________  
As I opened the door, I walked into Lestrade.  
"Ah, Sherlock! Here, you got a bit of mail. Don't know why they always send them here, but whatever," He said as he held out a small envelope.  
The front of it simply read,  
Sherlock Holmes  
I sniffed and took it from his hands, nodding sharply in way of thanks.  
As I walked outside with a sigh that let out a stream of clouds, I ripped open the envelope.  
Hello Sherlock!  
Ive decided to arrange a little meet up between you and I.  
Meet me at a quarter past 7 at the Lucky Cat shop on Northumberland street.  
Ill be waiting, Mr. Holmes.  
Dont disappoint me.  
My mind raced as I thought of who could have sent the letter.  
Moriarty?  
No, the writing was different.  
Audrey Hieffren?  
No, we hadnt been in contact for the longest time and she didn't use this kind of paper.  
Christopher Eikken?  
No, his writing was always with a feather tip quill.  
Who sent this?  
Why?  
Well, only one way to find out. I check my wristwatch and see its half past 6.  
Just enough time to prepare.  
_____________________


End file.
